


The Mocking Tree

by for_t2



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Hope vs. Despair, Hopeful Ending, Hunger Games, Rain, Reunions, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: The rebellion lost, Katniss finds herself stuck in the Hunger Games again, even more hopeless than before, but not everyone is ready to give up the fight
Relationships: Cressida/Katniss Everdeen
Kudos: 16





	The Mocking Tree

Fourteen times the cannon rang. Fourteen times it echoed through, and each time Katniss tried her best to keep her eyes closed. To think about anything but the names that were flashing across the sky. Fourteen more names dead to President Snow’s counter-revolution. Fourteen people who Katniss might even had called friends.

The first time she fought in the Hunger Games, she was too scared, too desperate to just survive, to really think about how unfair it all was. The second time she thought, it was all she could think about, and it pissed her off. And, now, the third time, she was just too tired to care anymore.

They had fought so hard. But they still lost.

And so here she was again, leaning against the rough bark of a tree, wet leaves tickling her legs a dozen metres off the ground. Back in the Games. Snow’s sadistic and typically unimaginative way of punishing them.

And Katniss really should fight. Really should go find her bow, maybe some other weapons too, and get back into the hunt. Fourteen dead means nine to go, and she was always the best hunter of the rebellion.

She really should kill them.

Really should.

But Snow would probably just kill Prim anyways, wouldn’t he?

*

Sleeping on a tree branch isn’t supposed to be easy. You’re supposed to find a strong stable branch, use rope to secure yourself to the trunk, and so on.

Katniss didn’t have any rope. And maybe it didn’t really matter if she fell off. The fall was long enough to make sure she wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.

She still jerked when she heard the leaves rustling below her though. Still tried to stabilise herself. To reach for her bow. She was a hunter, and even in the midnight darkness rendered even darker by the artificial dome of the games, she could recognise the sound of a moving animal.

And that’s really what they were now. Animals. Snow made sure of that, made sure that each of the faces of the rebellion had a promise waiting for them on the other side. Riches and glory wouldn’t work, of course, neither on the tributes or the districts.

For some, it was the promise of peace via morphling. For others, it was peace from tracker jacker venom. For some it was just the promise of survival, for themselves or the people they cared about. Either way, it had been weeks since any of them had seen each other, weeks in which Snow made sure that they’d fight.

“Shit.” The rustling below was too regular to be the wind and too heavy to be a small animal. Katniss scrambled to find a branch, a pinecone, anything that could be used as a weapon. “Shit.”

She didn’t find any.

So she waited. The rustling circled round the neighbouring trees. Around her tree.

Katniss barely felt her throat closing around her breath. Barely felt the splinters digging deep into her hands, blood dripping through clenched fists.

She waited.

Until the rustling moved.

Away.

Until it faded completely into the night.

*

Fresh rain always tasted special. In the summers when droughts had hit District 12, when all the water was diverted to the mineral refineries, Katniss always had the job of making the rain barrels were out and ready, if they were lucky enough for the clouds to come.

Up here in her tree, Katniss let the rain wash over her. Let it fall into her palms and across her lips. Let her soak her down to the bone.

It was interesting, she thought, that Snow had let her stay up in her tree for so long. He hadn’t sent any fires or lighting, any fanged monkeys or mutts to try and knock her down and towards the action. Maybe he just needed her to be seen like this – alone, defeated, not even willing a hand to save her own sister, wallowing in the cold rain and the acceptance that Snow always-- 

The rustling.

Katniss jerked up again. Curled her hand around the branch she spent the night sharpening.

The rustling moved closer. Further. Closer. Closer… 

Johanna. Small, hunched around herself and shivering, flinching with every drop that hit her, as if the rain were needles.

“Fuck you!” Johanna slammed her blood-stained axe into a tree just a few metres away.

Katniss spotted a few scars on her arms that she didn’t recognise. But Johanna didn’t seem to have spotted her, so she waited, trying to keep her breath steady. Trying not to make a single sound.

“Fuck…” Johanna stopped, axe half-way raised. The tree in front of her already had an axe mark. She prodded it. It didn’t go away. Through her soaked frown, her eyes almost shone bloodshot red. “Fuck you.”

Katniss raised her spear as Johanna turned back. It would be better. Better for Johanna, better for Prim, and better for… Maybe it would satisfy Snow. Killing one of her best friends, her rebellion roommate, maybe… 

It would be better for Johanna.

Katniss shut her eyes. Picked out the retreating footsteps through the rain.

Aimed.

Breathed.

Silence.

The spear clattered as it slipped out of her hands and dropped through the tree branches and bounced into the wet leaves.

For a moment, Johanna stopped. Looked back.

If she saw anything, it wasn’t Katniss. “Fuck you!” She slammed her axe into another tree one last time before marching off. Before leaving Katniss alone again.

*

It took about two days until Katniss heard rustling again. Two days of sitting up in her tree, sharpening new branches, weaving rope from bark, of waiting for it to be over.

But then the rustling came back. A different type of rustling this time, lighter, more precise.

Katniss raised her makeshift bow. Aimed through the branches.

Her eyes met blue. Cressida. Cressida, who was staring right at her. Who was mouthing the word “Katniss?” Who-- 

Whose eyes went wide as her head snapped to the side.

Who sprinted away from her as fast she could.

It was all Katniss could do not to cry out as Haymitch and Annie stormed after her.

* 

Three times.

Three cannon blasts. That’s how many Katniss counted that day. And each time she tried to bury her head in her arms. After the names had finished flashing across the sky, she could even feel the wet stain of blood tricking down her neck, her nails red with clawed out flesh from behind her ears.

Seventeen dead, six to go.

Katniss had spent a lot of time that day making rope. Not very good rope, but it was probably enough. Enough to make Snow happy. Hopefully. If there was such a thing as hopefully anymore.

“Prim…”

At least there was still Prim.

“I’m sorry.”

Always.

* 

It only took a pebble to wake Katniss up.

Or, probably more than one pebble judging the look on Cressida’s face. A look that changed quickly when Katniss stirred and blinked down at her. “You’re alive.”

Alive. A funny word. Katniss just stared down blankly at Cressida.

“We didn’t see your name, but…” Cressida glanced sharply to the side. “We had to make sure.” It really didn’t matter. “But you’re alive.” Katniss didn’t share the little smile at the corner of her lips. Didn’t move. “You’re really alive.”

Didn’t say a word.

“Katniss?” Cressida glanced around her again.

Didn’t really have anything to say. Not anymore.

“Katniss,” Cressida’s voice sounded just as hoarse and exhausted as Katniss imagined hers would’ve sounded like. “We need you.”

*

Two days.

Two days without a single cannon blast. Two days during which Cressida tried to climb up the tree three times, during which she had to run five times, during which it rained twice.

Two days during which Prim was out there, surrounded by peacekeepers just waiting for Snow’s order.

Two days until Katniss landed in the leaves, mud splashing over her clothes.

“Finally.” Cressida raised her sword as Katniss pushed herself back to her feet. “I didn’t think you’d come down.”

Katniss noticed the way she flinched with each second Katniss moved. The way her arm trembled so harshly her sword barely pointed straight. “What did they do to you?”

Cressida laughed, sharp and ugly. “They’re all dead, Katniss. Pollux, Effie, Finnick—”

“Stop.”

Cressida laughed again. “It’s not just morphling. We don’t know what else they added, but…” She chuckled, a little softer. “I don’t think I’m going to be directing any more propos.”

Katniss slowly held her hands up. “Are you going to kill me?” Took a step towards Cressida.

“Kill you?” Cressida chuckled again. “I should. Snow…”

Katniss took another step towards her.

“Snow…” Cressida dropped the sword. “You’re alive.” Rushed forward to hug Katniss. “My mockingjay.”

It took Katniss a second before she hugged Cressida back. And a few seconds longer before she said anything. “Yeah.”

“We’ve got a bow for you,” Cressida said as she slowly pulled out of the hug, a hand never leaving Katniss’s arm.

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Johanna.” Cressida glanced nervously around the trees again. “Peeta and Haymitch have been sticking together, and Plutarch… He’s up to something.” Cressida gave Katniss a tug. “But we promised we wouldn’t give up on you.”

“He has Prim.”

“Snow has a lot of things.” Cressida gave Katniss another tug. This time, Katniss got the hint started moving with her. “But he won’t have us.”

“But Prim—”

“We can save her. We’ll find a way.”

Katniss slowed. Nodded. “Yeah.” Marched forward, pulling Cressida with her. “Fuck Snow. Let’s burn this place down.”


End file.
